Casebook 3 : The Case Of The Unusual Wound
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and Jenny investigate a breach in the security of a private bank.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Unusual Wound  
AUTHOR: Talepiece  
RATING: 12 cert.  
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny  
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra  
CONTINUITY: This is the third of the Vastra/Jenny detective stories.  
SUMMARY: Vastra and Jenny investigate a breach in the security of a private bank.  
DISCLAIMER: Vastra and Jenny don't belong to me, very little else does either.  
CREDITS: This story has many inspirations, some old and some new, though no specific antecedent. A couple of the characters are based on or directly from stories that will be referenced in later installments. I've taken liberties with a couple of Classic Who alien races too.  
NOTE: This part is a bit different — and not the original part three I wrote before posting the first story — because I'd like to continue with the Casebook series and I thought I'd better try out a few other things while I still had a bit of leeway. Feedback welcome, as always.  
Oh, and please don't go back and re-read _The Missing Bullet_'s description of the area of London Jenny was living in :-)

* * *

It took a little time before Madame Vastra and her companion Jenny Flint were presented with a case that had, shall we say, little to do with humanity's foibles and rather more to do with the presence of non-humans on Earth. The Case Of The Unusual Wound introduced Jenny Flint to the presence of others more strange than her friend and gave rise to their lifelong commitment to protect the Earth and it's not always grateful inhabitants from such threats.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint  
London, 1948

* * *

Jenny Flint smiled as she let herself into the small house that she shared with her friend Madame Vastra. She smiled because it was her own home, the first that she had had and far more than she had ever expected to have, and because she was returning to her friend. The events of the past few months had been a blur of mysteries and excitement but they had also been filled with Vastra, that most remarkable of women. Not a woman in the human sense, of course, but a proud Silurian warrior who had chosen to remain in the middle of a humanity that seemed to both repulse and attract her in equal measure.

Jenny blushed a little at the thought of what might be attracting Vastra, what might be keeping her here in one of the world's most densely populated cities. Something was holding the two women together and Jenny hoped with all her heart that she knew what it was. More still that Vastra understood it too. She would have to work up the courage to raise the topic, Jenny decided, but how did you go about broaching such a delicate subject with someone who wasn't even human?

Jenny didn't have time to consider the problem further as Vastra herself stepped out into the hallway in front of her.

"There you are, my dear, what perfect timing as always."

"Everything all right, Madame?"

Jenny stopped unbuttoning her coat and took back her hat from the stand that stood near the door. Vastra was already in her own coat, her veil held casually in one hand and a telegram in the other.

She raised the paper in explanation, "We have had an urgent communication and are away to Belgravia this instant."

"Belgravia? What's gone on there then, someone had their second best jewels lifted?"

"Quite possibly. I will explain more as we travel, let us hail a cab at once."

They went outside and Jenny fixed her bonnet on her head as Madame Vastra indicated their need for a Hansom with a sharp flick of her gloved hand. It never failed to draw a cab to them and Jenny wondered yet again if there was some sort of strange mind control at work. She decided not to mention the idea to Vastra.

They settled into their seats and Vastra said, "We have had a telegram from Carter Lawrie. A private banking establishment of some repute."

"Define repute, Madame," Jenny said, aware that reputation could be gained in many ways.

"An astute question. While Carter Lawrie is, on the surface at least, an establishment of the highest order, with a clientele of the same, there has been some suggestion throughout it's sixty year history that perhaps not all of their clientele are of the highest moral calibre."

"That's highly unlikely, I should say. How many of the best sort," Jenny's mouth twisted as she used the phrase, "are really of the highest calibre, eh?"

"Indeed. Whether or not they are, the bank has been extremely successful over the past few years, growing in both reputation and financial reward. They have a very profitable investment arm but that is not our concern for today."

"What then, Madame?"

"They have suffered a failure in their security. A significant failure, I would say, given the urgency of this missive."

Vastra handed the telegram to Jenny, who read it through slowly before handing it back. Vastra had insisted that she improve her letters and numbers, tutoring her in both, but she still took a little longer than she would like in these things. Practice was, as Vastra insisted, the key but how was she supposed to get the time to practice such things when urgent telegrams kept getting in the way?

"Sounds serious."

"I suspect so. Such establishments generally have private vaults where their clients can store their own locked boxes. Carter Lawrie have at least two - or so I have deduced - although only one is widely known. I suspect that the more exclusive vault is open to only a very select group of clients and at their disposal night and day."

"So if that's the vault that's been done, they really are going to be up in arms?"

"As we are about to find out, my dear."

The Hansom pulled up to the white stuccoed terrace, coming to a juddering halt in front of the entrance to one of the buildings. A doorman in a long black frock coat helped them down and opened the door to them as they passed through the surprisingly understated entrance. The door opened on to a simply furnished greeting area where a young man in a sharply pressed suit welcomed them with a bow.

Vastra explained their presence and he lead them to an office set further back on the same level. His expression was grave as he ushered them into the office and introduced them to Sir Neville Carter, one of the bank's owners. He was a tall, older man with a sharp face and hawk's eyes. They took in Vastra and Jenny with one long glance before he nodded his greeting and offered his hand to Vastra.

"Madame Vastra, you are very good to answer our call for assistance so promptly."

"It is our pleasure to be of service, Sir Neville. Allow me to introduce my associate, Miss Flint."

"Delighted, I'm sure," he said, though he neither looked nor sounded anything of the sort. He turned to the young man, "Phillips, run down to the vault and have Mr Harcourt open her up for us, would you? We'll be down in a few moments."

The young man bowed to the room in general and left without a word. Sir Neville waved them to the seats on the visitor's side of his expansive desk and settled himself in to the large, leather chair on the other side.

"You have suffered a loss, Sir Neville?"

"Indeed we have, Madame. Our private vault has been violated."

"Violated?" Jenny said.

"Our security is second to none, I assure you ladies, and we have an impeccable record of protecting both our clients' property and their privacy."

"You are uncomfortable discussing your bank's business with outsiders, of course Sir Neville," Vastra said smoothly, "However, we must know the details, if we are to offer our assistance."

"Yes, I suppose so. Still, I have your word that this matter will remain absolutely confidential? No tittle-tattling in the tearooms?"

Jenny felt Vastra straighten beside her and struggled to keep her face still.

"I assure you," Vastra said in a voice with more than a hint of danger to it, "that we are utterly discrete, Sir Neville. I do not believe you would have called my associate and I here had you any doubts on the matter."

"Oh, I have a great many doubts, Madame, make no mistake. However," he stood from his chair and indicated the door, "Harcourt tells me that you have quite a reputation in these sorts of things so you may as well see the full extend of it."


	2. Chapter 2

See Part One for story details.

* * *

They walked through the bank's elegant corridors and Jenny thought of the front of house at the theatres they had visited during the Wallack case. There was no backstage here though and the plush carpeting and highly polished gold fittings continued as they descended to the lower level and approached the vault.

It looked like nothing more than a large, heavily bolted door. One that already stood open with two burly men in nicely tailored suits standing by. Beyond there was a wall of thick bars with another door set into it. That too was open and further on again, another door, this one set with a huge locking mechanism at its centre. The metal of the round mechanism gleamed and Jenny noticed that the older man who was standing by to open it had pristine white gloves on.

He turned the large mechanism in precise movements and hefted the door open. Jenny watched, fascinated when something of the internal locking mechanism was exposed as the door swung open. She glanced up at Vastra and raised a brow. There was a faint nod in reply and Jenny understood that her companion was as interested in this show of security as she was.

Sir Neville allowed them a few moments to take in the sight before indicating the inner vault with a twitch of his hand.

"I had the thing locked down as soon as I'd inspected the scene. No-one else has been near the vault all day. I've had Phillips telling our clients that we're upgrading the security and that the vault will be open again in," he glance at his pocket watch, "five hours and eleven minutes."

"Then Miss Flint and I should take a look, Sir Neville," Vastra said, "Perhaps you should return to your work, I'm sure your employees will answer any questions we may have."

Sir Neville bristled at being dismissed in such a manner but merely gave a curt nod and walked away. Jenny smiled at Phillips, who stood quietly off to the side, and at the man who had opened the vault door for them. He was pulling off his white gloves and pushing them into his coat pockets.

"You must be Mr Harcourt," she said, offering her hand.

He looked surprised but took it and nodded, "I would be, Miss. Reginald Harcourt, at your service."

"You are most kind, Mr Harcourt," Vastra took his hand in turn, "I am Madame Vastra and this is my associate, Miss Flint. Now, Mr Phillips, shall we?"

Phillips blanched and Harcourt said, "Perhaps I'd best take you inside, Madame. Though I'm not rightly sure I'd like my own wife and daughter to see such a thing. You are sure you're quite prepared for this, Madame?"

"It's not just a burglary then?" Jenny said.

Harcourt gave Phillips a sharp look and the younger man offered a faint shrug in reply. "Well I never, the old -" Harcourt caught whatever he was about to say and took a deep breath before shaking his head, "Most unfair of Sir Neville to ask you to investigate without telling you the facts as they stand, Madame. Most unfair indeed."

"The facts as they stand, Mr Harcourt? There is something more to this matter?"

"Indeed there is, Madame. A fair bit more in fact. You must prepare yourselves for quite a shock, ladies, for I'm afraid it's as nasty a piece of murder as I, or any of my lads, have ever seen."

Jenny looked up to Vastra's covered face and gave a nod in response to the faintest twitch of the veil. She turned to the men and said, "You'd best show us this nasty business then, wouldn't want someone capable of that sort of thing wondering the streets for too long, eh?"

Harcourt still looked doubtful, though there was admiration in his gaze as he considered them for a moment before leading the way through the large, heavily protected door. Inside was a beautifully polished table and all around it, set into the walls, row upon row of locked alcoves. Each had a steel door that bore two keyholes and a number in black metal. One wall had thin doors, barely more than four inches high, but the other two had larger spaces.

One of those spaces, number 136 off to the right as they entered the vault, was open, the little door left swinging on only one hinge, the metal twisted and scarred as if ripped from its place. There was a large steel box on the floor, close to the right side of the table. It looked as though the box had tumbled from the edge of the table as someone rushed to leave. Or in a fight perhaps. Jenny looked down at the corner of the room on that side. There was a body sprawled there, covered with a heavy blanket.

Harcourt stepped aside and allowed the women to take in the vault before they turned to the body and knelt down beside it. Vastra eased the cover up, exposing a man's head. An old man with big, bushy whiskers and unnaturally pale skin. His eyes were still open, wide and staring. Vastra gently eased the man's eyelids down before pulling the blanket back a little more, exposing a neatly starched collar and then his chest.

Jenny gagged despite herself and slapped her hand to her mouth. Vastra made to pull the covering back up but Jenny took her hand from her mouth and stopped the movement.

"No, Madame, I'm fine."

"You are sure, my dear?"

Jenny looked back down at the gaping hole in the man's chest. It was so large that there was barely a chest there at all. But no blood, Jenny noted and she was suddenly intrigued. She leaned in further, looking up to Vastra before studying the wound again. It was less a wound than a hole. No blood, no ragged edge, just the open space where his ribs should be and the petrified remains of his internal organs exposed to the air. Jenny sniffed hesitantly. There was a smell, something sharp that made her nose itch. It wasn't like burning, though, certainly not like burnt flesh.

"It is from the chemical reaction of the weapon and the poor man's flesh."

"No normal weapon that could make a hole like that. No blood either and no burn marks. What on earth is it, Madame?"

"Nothing on Earth, my dear," Vastra whispered.

Jenny stared at her. Was she serious? For once Jenny couldn't quite tell through the lace of the veil. But then, why would Vastra lie about such a thing, why make light of the poor man's death. No, she was serious.

"You mean," Jenny hesitated, trying to find the right words, "you mean like an alien thingy? Not Silurian?" she gasped and regretted it immediately.

"Most certainly not," Vastra's back straightened. They was a long pause and Vastra added, "Well, in fact a Silurian weapon could have made such a wound but, no, not this wound. This crime was committed not by one of my people — we are of this Earth, as I have told you before — but not one of your own either."

"Like an out there alien?"

"Exactly like that, yes. Now, if we may continue?"

Jenny grimaced at the tone and gave a meek nod. Vastra continued to pull the blanket away from the man, exposing his old fashioned but well-kept black trousers and his sparkling leather shoes. There were a few marks or strands of something on the trousers that didn't match the blanket's weave and a deep scratch across the toes of his left shoe but no other wounds. Vastra lay the blanket aside and leaned over his legs.

"Some sort of hair? One might almost say fur," she considered, adding, "I must investigate more closely, my dear."

Jenny stood, looking at Mr Harcourt who waited just inside the vault, watching the women expectantly.

"Well then, Sir, why don't you tell me what you know of the incident while by colleague continues her examination?" The man dragged his gaze away from the body and seemed to shake himself free of the horror of what lay there. Jenny looked around, seeing Phillips standing just outside the vault, "Mr Phillips too. Why don't we step outside, eh?"

Harcourt followed her from the vault and joined an embarrassed looking Phillips. Even having waited outside, the young man still looked pale and nervous. Jenny couldn't blame him; she was feeling quite pale herself. She glanced back into the vault to satisfy herself that neither of the men could see Vastra as she worked.

"Well then," Jenny offered them a reassuring smile, "who exactly is that man?"

Harcourt spoke up, "That'd be — or rather, that was — old Mr Edwards, Miss. He'd been here for years, practically since the place opened."

"His late father was one of the original employees," Phillips elaborated, "Mr Edwards had been working here since he was a boy."

"Bit old to be around at night like that?" Jenny said.

"He insisted," Harcourt said, "He had no family and nothing to go home to. All but lived here this past few years since his wife passed."

Phillips lowered his head respectfully, then added, "He refused to retire, said he'd have nothing to do if he left."

"So what was his job then?"

"He greeted the clients who wanted access to the vault. Lead them down here and used the bank's key to open the box with them."

"Each box has to have two keys?" Jenny asked.

"They do," Mr Harcourt said, "the client has their own and the bank has a second key. Both must be turned together and each turned again to lock the box."

"The same key for all the boxes?"

"Each client key is unique, Miss. The bank's keys are in batches, one key to so many boxes in that set."

"And clients can come in any time they want? Without appointment?"

Phillips said, "The clients using this vault, yes. They simply arrive at the door and are shown through."

"And what happened last night? You must have records of arrivals and such?"

"Oh yes Miss," Harcourt said, "Mr Edwards was very careful about that. And there's the boys too, I always have three men on guard through the night."

Jenny glanced back to the two burly men at the outer door. Too far away to intervene if something happened in the vault but she supposed privacy overrode security in matters like this.

"So what happened to your boys last night, Mr Harcourt?"

The man's cheeks tinged a dark red, though Jenny wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. When he spoke, his tone was grave.

"Knocked out cold, Miss. No idea what happened after the client arrived. Could barely describe the client at all. And the funny thing is, not a sign of a bruise or a mark, no sign of being struck at all. Just, bang, out for the count."

Jenny raised a brow, "Big chaps like them?" she indicated the guards outside the door.

"Bigger, two of them. Mason and Taylor," he added to Phillips.

The young man nodded in agreement and said, "According to Mr Edward's initial records, Mr Parker-Stewart arrived at five minutes after eleven. He requested immediate access to the vault and signed the appropriate papers. I was alerted at a little after two in the morning and contacted Sir Neville immediately."

"So who alerted you?"

"Mason. He had woken only a few minutes before. He sent word with a runner to myself and Mr Harcourt."

Harcourt continued, "I was round here within twenty minutes and found poor Mr Edwards as you found him, excepting the blanket of course. Taylor was still out for the count, though Booth was just about awake again."

"And the box, Mr Harcourt, was it left just as we found it too?"

"I confess, I had a look inside. There were some papers in the bottom still but nothing else."

"And do you know what was in there?"

Phillips looked alarmed, "We do not. Privacy and confidentiality are the bywords at Carter Lawrie."

"So you have no idea what's actually in any of the boxes?" Both men shook their heads. "But you're pretty sure something hefty has been taken?" Harcourt nodded again, though Phillips refused to even acknowledge the question. Jenny stiffled her sigh, "And this Parker-Stewart, who's he then?"

Phillip's face twitched painfully, "We are not at liberty to -"

"If you and Sir Neville want this matter dealt with, without Scotland Yard becoming involved," she added pointedly, "then I'd suggest you answer these questions."

Harcourt waved away whatever Phillips was about to say, "Quite right, Miss. Mr Parker-Stewart is an investor with the bank. An adventurer of some sort, I believe, and an inventor too. His box is a few rows down from the one that was opened."

"So the bank's key would be the same?"

"It would, yes."

"And would he have known that Mr Edwards had already made a note of his arrival?"

"I would have thought so, though I couldn't say for sure. Bit odd that he'd turn up and rob the place, eh? Especially when he could probably buy half the bank himself, should he see fit to do so. But then, how could anyone have fooled Old Edwards so? He had as sharp an eye as a man half his age, I can tell you."

"And the box that was actually opened, who did that belong to?"

"A Mr Kennedy, Miss, a Mr Richard Alastair Kennedy," Harcourt said.

"And he is?"

"Another investor and an industrialist of some sort, from what I can gather. In fact, I believe he had something to do with Mr Parker-Stewart, business-wise that is. Perhaps this is a personal matter of sorts?"

"Perhaps so," Vastra said from the doorway, "We will require the home and business addresses of both men, Mr Phillips. Pray do not protest, we must have this information." Vastra approached the three of them, "Well, then, Mr Harcourt, Mr Phillips, let us be quite clear of our duties. Do you wish for the stolen item or items to be found and returned without further comment or incident? Or does the bank want the culprit bought to justice? I will not tolerate vigilante justice, gentleman, so do not make such a request of Miss Flint and I."

Phillips was obviously startled by the comment but Harcourt nodded in understanding, "Well, Madame, it may not be my place to answer for the bank but I will do so anyway: your first priority is to find whatever is missing from that box and return it to the bank as soon as possible. If it is also possible to apprehend the culprit in a timely and preferrably quiet manner, then please do so. I believe it might be best to leave that to your better judgement, Madame, Miss, as I understand your judgment is quite sound in such matters."

"You are most kind Mr Harcourt. Mr Phillips, our remuneration; the bank is sufficiently able to withstand this shock that I do not need to request payment in advance?"

Jenny and Harcourt shared a smile but Phillips appeared scandalised by the very suggestion.

Jenny took pity on the young man and said, "Ignore her, Mr Phillips, the Madame does like to tease. All we ask is that our fee and expenses be paid in a timely manner upon completion of our task."

He agreed readily and offered to show the women back to the front entrance of the bank. Vastra declined, asking only that he provide them with the required information and that Harcourt take the time to show them the rest of the vault area. Phillips left them and Harcourt talked them through the process of opening and closing the vault, exactly what happened when a client visited and the standard procedures at other times.

"Mr Harcourt," Vastra said as they were lead through the corridors towards the back of the building, "what do you believe is the motivation for this crime?"

"You suspect more than simple theft, Madame?" he said.

"As do you, I believe."

"I do indeed, Madame. Why else use such a weapon? I saw service in the Crimea and in Indian and I thought I'd seen everything, every sort of horror known to man, but I can honestly say I've never seen anything of the sort, Madame. And I do hope you will both take good care of yourselves while investigating this crime, whatever sort of crime it turns out to be."


	3. Chapter 3

See Part One for story details.

* * *

They stepped up into the hazy light of a London day and walked around the terrace back to the main square. Vastra studied the neatly written note that Mr Phillips had given her. It contained two sets of addresses, all but one within walking distance. She looked up to the clouded sky, considering the darkening blue.

"Reckon we'll make it to the first place or two before the rain comes," Jenny said as she read the note, "Homes first, I assume?"

"I believe so. Certainly we might walk a while, the air is a little cleaner here at least."

"Well, wouldn't want the posh folk living in the soot, eh?"

Jenny took Vastra's arm and they walked together, turning out of the square and on to Lyall Street. Vastra spoke a little of her examination of the vault and the body it contained but there were few conclusions to be drawn from either.

There were some well-dressed people walking along, though no-one took much notice of them. As they walked on, the sounds of a street hawker came to them, a strong, male voice that carried easily over the quiet bustle of this area of London.

Vastra looked around, "I had not expected to find a peddlar in this part of the city, my dear."

"No, quite unusual. Hold on, though," Jenny listened for a moment and grinned, "We should have a word with him — might know something."

"Surely an itinerant would have little to say?"

"Not itinerant, Madame, he's a street stationer."

"Indeed?" Vastra said doubtfully.

Jenny turned them to the direction of the patter and they walked on until they saw a man on the other side of the street. He had taken up a pitch on the corner, hawking his wares to the passersby. Many of the slightly less well-dressed of whom stopped to exchange a few pence for what he offered; a a rosy-cheeked woman laughing at his flirtatious tone, a young lad giving a firm nod to conclude their transaction.

Jenny waited until there was no-one else around the man and trotted across the road to him. He was plainly dressed in an old but servicable suit and a shirt that had been white not very long ago, his cap was cocked on his head at an angle and showed short, dark hair beneath it. Vastra held back a little, listening to his patter, "A 'ole 'alf a quire of best Bath paper, just a penny; hangflups three 'appence a pack and sealing wax just a penny a stick," he called out as Jenny approached him. Vastra hurried to join her, if only to hear how she would handle the man.

"I'll have a half a quire, please. But just you make it a full half and not one of your short halves, eh?"

The man appeared wounded by the very thought but his feined innocence was no match for Jenny's glare and he gave a meek nod and reached into the bag that he wore on his shoulder, pulling out a slightly thicker pile of paper than the ones he waved to the passersby.

"Know your stuff, eh Miss? Fair 'nuff that is. Here ya go," he handed her the paper with a nervous glance up at Vastra who had taken station just behind Jenny, "Got your own personal guard, have ya?"

"Oh no, you've got that the wrong way round, Mister: it's me who's guarding her."

The man looked like he might laugh but his gaze lingered on Jenny's expression and his face sobered. Vastra wished that she could see the look that Jenny wore at that moment. She did her best to appear as intimidating as her companion obviously did and the man paled a little more.

"Any hangflups with that, Miss?" he said nervously.

"Aye, all right then, just a packet. Bit of information too, if you've got it. Here, what's your name?"

For a moment Vastra thought that he might refuse to answer but then he said, "Sal, Miss, Sal Kelly. And you two?"

"Never mind that," Jenny said, "You had this pitch long, Sal?"

"Been here three months or more. Lovely dry spot over there," he nodded to his left before glancing up at the sky, "for when it comes down and the locals seem friendlier than I thought they would be."

"Good spot then and you've been here long enough to catch the news when it floats about, eh?"

"Might a done," he said, hesitating before he handed over the packet of what Vastra realised were envelopes, "Why'd you ask that?"

"Heard anything this morning? Anything about one of them banks across the way?"

Sal studied her for a long moment, his hand held out for the money as Jenny counted out half a shilling. Vastra loomed over her shoulder but he still seemed much more concerned by the smaller woman.

"Don't worry, Sal, we ain't working with the coppers, nor anyone worse than that. Just want to know if you've heard anything today. Someone planning something? Someone pulled something off? It'd be rare indeed if that sort of thing didn't get out some way, some how."

"Rare it would," he agreed slowly, "but I ain't heard anything like that this morning. Always the usual gossip, o'course, but nothing as you'd say immediate. You might try Timmy Tuppence, there ain't much he don't know one way or another."

"Fair enough then, thank you kindly," Jenny pressed the coins into his hand.

"And thank you," he doffed his cap politely. Jenny made to turn but he added, "Here, there were a bit o'gossip about, though I doubt it's much to do with what you're after."

"Oh aye?" Jenny encouraged him.

"There's a bit about this queer fella, Hoog-somat-or-other, and there's some funny stuff going on down at the docks too; someone's hiring a very strange set of folks for down there, mention of a new boss and everything. Causing quite a fuss in some quarters, I can tell you. Not that I'm sayin' that'll be useful to ya but still, you asked."

"Much obliged for the help, Sal," Jenny said and pressed something into his hand.

He looked down at it, one brow rising in surprise as he registered the value of the coin, and he doffed his hat again, "As am I, Miss, as am I."

"Worth giving me a full half a quire, eh?" Jenny said as she tucked her purchases into her coat and took Vastra's arm, leading them away from the man.

They walked on in silence for a while, resuming their path to the first address on Phillip's note until Vastra said, "I had no idea that I required a bodyguard."

"You just might, Madame," Jenny smiled up at her, "and I reckon you've seen that I can look after the both of us, if needs be."

"Indeed I have," Vastra thought back to Mr Whitman's startled expression as Jenny's swift actions felled him to the stage of the Lyceum, "and I have been meaning to ask you about that. Where did you learn such things? Surely young women are not taught to fight in such a manner as a matter of course?"

Jenny laughed, "I doubt many of them are, certainly not in this neck of the woods," she added, looking up at the rows of expensive homes ahead of them, "but then I'm not from this neck of the woods and I doubt many of this lot have brothers who used to fight for a living."

"Your brother was a prizefighter? I really should be more careful about teasing you."

"You most certainly should. Here we are, the Parker-Stewart abode," Jenny said, tutting as she considered the place.

It was a large building in the middle of a pretty little square, though the tall windows gave it a pinched look. Vastra noted the state of the exterior with surprise. The white paintwork was showing signs of peeling and there were darker areas here and there. The window frames were peeling too, the cream paint giving way to the dark metal beneath. Compared to the immaculately-kept houses that surrounded it, Mr Parker-Stewart's residence was something of a disappointment.

Vastra peered at the door and glanced at Jenny through the veil. Jenny nodded once and moved towards the steps. The door was open. Just a little, as if someone hadn't quite shut it to but no butler or housemaid worth their salt would leave it like that.

"Let us be wary, my dear."

"Oh, I already am, believe me."

They stood at the top of the steps, listening intently through the narrow gap of the door. There was no noise from within but Vastra's head twitched, the veil shifting around her face. Jenny raised a brow in question and Vastra carefully lifted the veil a fraction, her tongue darting out to taste the air.

"I fear it is the same smell as from the vault."

"That funny weapon again?"

Vastra nodded, her veil falling back over her face as she did so. She reached out and pushed the door open with a slow, deliberate movement. Jenny slipped in as soon as the door was open enough and Vastra hissed a warning behind her. She followed Jenny inside to find a simply decorated hallway marred by the body of an older man in a butler's uniform.

Jenny leaned down to study the body. His round face was set in a look of shock, his pale blue eyes wide, mouth slack. His chest was less exposed than poor Mr Edwards but the wound was much the same. His body was stiff and cold, his skin almost translucent. Vastra lifted her veil from her face, settling it over her hat to keep it out of the way. Her tongue darted out again and she looked down to Jenny with a troubled expression.

"I believe we will find more such victims."

Jenny stood, "Reckon we will. Anyone alive, you think?"

"I fear not."

"And he's pointing the wrong way," Jenny said, glancing back at the door, "he wasn't killed when someone came in, he was killed on the way out again."

Vastra merely nodded her agreement and they moved on down the hall, glancing into the small greeting and sitting rooms until they reached a larger study. There was a body lying on the floor. Another man but this one in well-cut evening wear, though in a style some years out of fashion, a middle aged man with a haggard face. There were few decorations in the room and only one painting on the wall. Above the desk hung a small portrait of a man of action, jacket cast aside, sleeves rolled up, standing arms akimbo in an arid setting. It was the same man who lay on the floor beside the desk.

"The unfortunate Mr Parker-Stewart."

"How long've they been like this do you think?"

Vastra considered the corpse, "Early last evening, perhaps?"

"So it certainly wasn't our Mr Parker-Stewart who pulled off the bank job", Jenny looked around at the few items dotted about the room, "He doesn't seem to have been much of a collector so I doubt the motive was theft."

They looked around the rest of the house and found two more bodies, a young woman in a maid's uniform and an older woman in the kitchen. Jenny noted the relative lack of servants but Vastra waved the thought away when they came upon a dressing room set off the main bedroom. The clothes that it contained were of good quality but well worn and barely took up a third of the space. Tucked in to the back of the small room was a large safe. The door had been ripped open with considerable force and hung perilously from what had been solid hinges. Vastra leaned down to look inside.

"What I don't get," Jenny said as she peered over Vastra's shoulder at the damage, "is why not just use this weapon to blow a hole in the front? Why bother to do that?"

Vastra pulled out a pile of papers, "It is not such a weapon, my dear; while it has a most deadly effect on flesh, it would not be so effective against metal. Though, I admit I wonder why anyone with such a formidable weapon could not also obtain the sort of weapon you are imagining. As, indeed, I wonder who...or what...could open a safe door in such a manner."

She glanced through the papers before dropping them to the floor and lifting a black box from the safe. She opened it to reveal a large necklace. The gold setting still contained dozens of small diamonds and three larger precious stones but the central stone was missing.

"Blimey, that's what I call a piece. Didn't expect to find something like that in this place."

"Indeed. Though I believe I might call it vulgar," Vastra said, "I would like a better idea what stone has been taken however."

"And was it taken by our killer or was it gone before?"

There was a large bundle of bank notes in the safe, along with a leather pouch. Vastra picked the bag up and tipped it over her hand. There was nothing inside.

"What's the betting that had some keys in it?"

"I believe the odds would be quite good."

"But why take his keys, if you want to open the other bloke's box?"

"Why indeed," Vastra said absently. She stood and added, "So: a missing gem, a missing key — presumably the wrong one - and a man murdered some time before he committed a crime. Not our usual mystery, my dear."

Jenny took the offered hand as she too straightened up, "Not at all, Madame."

They left the house, taking another look into each room before closing the door firmly behind them and heading in the direction of the Kennedy residence. The sky was darkening outside but they walked on, silent for some time before Jenny noticed a young boy running back from delivering a message to a nearby house.

"Should I have him take a message to the police, Madame?"

"Not just yet," Vastra hesitated, aware that Jenny found such things distasteful, "I believe it might be better to leave the Parker-Stewart residence as it is for now. I do not imagine that Scotland Yard would make our investigation any easier and I believe we may be better equipped to deal with this matter. For the moment at least," she added in a softer tone.

"I don't doubt that. Still, sad to think of them all just lying there like that."

"The house will be dealt with in good time, I promise you. Ah, here we are."

Vastra nodded towards another large building, this one on the corner of two white terraces that swept away from them at right angles. It stood apart and, in contrast to the previous house, it was immaculately kept, standing in well-tended gardens that held it separate and very obviously aloof. Long lines of windows marked the higher stories and tall windows and doors, the lower, notable for their neatly pulled back drapes of bright colours. It looked every inch the abode of a man of means and taste.

Vastra added, "Mr Richard Alistair Kennedy, I believe. And it appears he may be at home to us."

Jenny watched as a carriage pulled up to the door and a well-dressed, middle aged man stepped down. A burly, uniformed servant hurriedly closed the carriage door and trotted up the steps to hold the front door open as the man entered the house.

"At least he's in one piece," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

See Part One for story details.

* * *

They waited at the door until it was answered by the same man who had helped his employer down. He was a hulking creature, far bigger and younger than any butler Vastra had seen. She glanced at Jenny and saw that Jenny was thinking the same. Vastra offered her card and asked to speak with Mr Kennedy on a most urgent matter. The young man seemed doubtful but lead them politely to a small sitting room where they waited for some time. The room was as overstuffed as the sofa that Vastra perched upon. Jenny was just beginning to loose her patience when the servant returned and offered them an apologetic expression.

"Mr Kennedy sends his apologies, ladies, but regrets that he will not be able to see you today."

Jenny opened her mouth to speak but Vastra put in quickly, "I fear that I have not made myself clear, young man, my associate and I are here on business from Carter Lawrie. Please be so good as to inform your employer that Mr Kennedy's safe box in the bank's vault has been rendered insecure and his attention is required immediately."

The butler hesitated but gave a curt nod and left them alone once more.

He returned a little more quickly this time and lead them down a hallway decorated with a strange mixture of bright wallhangings and traditional art before they reached a large, equally over-stuffed library.

The man who had stepped down from the carriage sat in a leather chair on the other side of a huge desk that took up a third of the room. Two less comfortable chairs sat on the near side of the desk, occupying what space remained with the desk itself and the cabinets and bookshelves that lined the walls. The far wall was filled with French windows that opened on to the pretty little garden at one side of the house. Jenny glanced at the nearest cabinet and saw a collection of ugly objects neatly arranged within.

The man didn't bother to stand, neither did he offer them a seat. Vastra took one anyway but Jenny stood behind her, staring at the man intently. She didn't like him, his home or his art, felt uncomfortable being within sight of him as his small, round eyes glared back at her.

"You are," he looked down at the card in his hand, "a Madame Vastra?"

His voice held traces of a soft Highland burr but it was tempered by a hint of rough Afrikaans and overlaid with what the man probably thought of as a cosmopolitan sophistication. It didn't make Jenny like him any more.

"I am," Vastra said in a level tone, "My associate, Miss Flint, and I are here on confidential business from Carter Lawrie, Mr Kennedy. I am afraid -"

He cut in, "And you expect me to believe this?"

"It is the truth," Vastra said before Jenny could speak.

"Why would Carter Lawrie send a couple of women on this most confidential matter?"

Jenny's hand tightened on the back of Vastra's chair as she said, "Why send a boy to do a woman's job, eh?"

Vastra smiled beneath the veil and said, "I believe what Miss Flint means to say, Mr Kennedy, is that Sir Neville has asked us to deal with this matter due to our expertise in such investigations." Kennedy eyed them sceptically and Vastra added, "However, if you would prefer that Scotland Yard look into the contents of Box 136, I can recommend an Inspector Brown to you. We will trouble you no further, Mr Kennedy, good day."

Vastra stood and turned to leave. Jenny didn't bother to look at Kennedy but turned with Vastra, happy to be heading for the door.

"Stop," he barked, "sit down and stop being so melodramatic. Women, honestly," he muttered to himself as Vastra and Jenny stood behind the chairs, "What has happened to Box 136?"

They remained standing as Vastra explained what had happened the night before, omitting the supposed presence of Mr Parker-Stewart and the particulars of Mr Edward's wound. She watched Kennedy's face intently through the veil, noting his growing alarm as she spoke.

"May we ask what was stored in Box 136, Sir?" Jenny said.

"You may not, I use Carter Lawrie for their discretion."

"Does anyone else know what the box held?" Vastra said.

"No-one," he said, though it wasn't convincing, "and I don't expect -"

Before he could finish, Jenny wobbled dangerously and grabbed on to the back of the chair in a desperate motion. Vastra reached for her immediately but Jenny made a great show of righting herself and appearing embarrassed.

"I do apologise, Madame, Mr Kennedy. I came over all peculiar just then, must be this funny weather. Sir, might I go to your kitchens and take a cup of tea?"

Kennedy muttered something that the women chose not to hear before shouting at the door, "Lockes, Lockes there!" The young butler entered and stood by the open door. Kennedy continued, "This girl here's in need of a glass of water, man, have one of the maids help her," he emphasised the word "maids" most particularly.

Vastra watched the young man lead Jenny away, her concern fading when she caught the sparkle in Jenny's eyes.

"I do apologise for my associate, she is not usually so delicate."

"With child, is she? That sort generally are. Had to get rid of another maid last week, disgraceful girl! Anyway, as I said, no-one else knows what I store in that box and no-one ever will. I certainly won't tell you, Madame," he sneered the word, "though I will be making a complaint to Sir Neville of the most strongly worded kind."

"As is your right, Mr Kennedy," Vastra hissed the name in return, "as is your right. Tell me, do you know a Mr Parker-Stewart? "

"Old Jimmy, yes of course I do."

"You are friends?" Vastra said, doubtful that this creature could have such a thing.

"Hardly!"

"Business associates, then? He also had a box in the same vault."

"Can't imagine what he kept in there; didn't like to spend a penny more than needed and he didn't need to spend much."

"Would you know where Mr Parker-Stewart is at the moment?"

Vastra watched for any signs of subtefuge but Kennedy seemed entirely sincere when he said, "No clue and no interest! Don't expect to see him until our next business meeting."

"And that would be?"

"None of your business. I believe we're done here. I'll be sending word to Sir Neville making my protest about this business quite forcefully."

"I am sure Sir Neville will be thrilled to hear from you."

Vastra turned for the door, relieved to be leaving the man's presence. She stepped into the hallway to find Jenny deep in conversation with a young girl. To Vastra's surprise, the girl in the maid's uniform had rich black skin and dense, black hair. Jenny sat in a straight-backed chair that stood against the wall at the far end of the hall, a glass of water held in both hands, the maid leaning over her as they spoke. Vastra looked towards the door and saw the butler waiting there, appearing increasingly annoyed as the two women talked. Vastra joined him.

"Miss Flint appears a little better," she said.

The young man nodded, "Mosa gave her a glass of water, Madame, and I let her have a seat for a few minutes."

"You are most kind. As was Mr Kennedy for his understanding," Vastra added through gritted teeth, "So kind, in fact, that I did not have chance to ask him what business he is in."

"Indeed Madame," was all the young man said.

Before Vastra could press him, she heard movement from the other end of the hallway. She turned to see the maid helping Jenny to her feet. Jenny took her arm as they made their stately way towards the door, which the young man opened immediately. Vastra could sense his relief as he did so. Jenny cast her a weak smile as they approached and reached out to take Vastra's arm as Mosa let her other arm go.

"Best she go straight home, Madame," Mosa said in a shy, heavily accented voice, "if you don't mind me saying so. Do you have a carriage?"

"Oh, no, no, that won't be necessary," Jenny said, "I feel much better thanks to your kindness. A breath of air and a cab home will do the trick. Thank you Mosa, Mr Locke, you've been most friendly."

"Indeed, I thank you also," Vastra said, "Now come, let us get you home this instant."

Vastra helped Jenny out of the door and down the steps, waiting for the sound of the door closing behind them before she eased her grip on Jenny's arm.

"You are incorrigible, my dear. Or should Mr Kennedy be believed, with child."

"Is that what he said? Well, that," Jenny stopped herself with difficulty and instead said, "Oh, I heard all about our Mr Kennedy and what a piece of work he is." Jenny straightened up as they made it to the corner of the next street, an angry look in her eye. "Did he tell you anything?"

"Certainly not consciously, no. Though I am quite sure that he had nothing to do with the murder of Mr Parker-Stewart. He appeared oddly unconcerned with the loss of something that must surely have been valuable to him. And I do wish I might have found out a little more about his business dealings."

"Oh I can help you there. He's not an industrialist at all, more an importer of other people's items and ideas. Spent a lot of time in southern Africa, stealing from the natives no doubt. Mr Parker-Stewart too, though I can't imagine that was an equal partnership. And don't you worry about him not being concerned; he's got plenty of friends of the less savoury type to take care of that sort of thing, I'd put money on it."

"You learned a good deal from young Mosa?"

"A fair bit, though that Mr Locke kept his beady on us the whole time. He certainly doesn't like pregnant women, fired a girl the other week for even thinking she'd taken."

"So he mentioned."

"Bet he didn't mention that he'd have been the father."

"He certainly did not. I believe your people refer to that as _droit de seigneur_?"

"Oh, I could tell you what my people call that," Jenny took a breath, "but I know you prefer I don't swear so much so I'll not say."

"Thank you, my dear. Southern Africa, you say?"

"Where Mosa is from. And listen to this, he might call them maids and servants but it's more like slaves. Treats them cruelly, I should say, though poor Mosa was very careful with what she said. Sounds to me that she's about ready to flit."

"The poor child. Perhaps we might offer her our assistance?"

Jenny smiled up at her, "I don't think our getting involved would help her much just now, though I did say she should come to us, if she needed help like."

"Very good," Vastra thought for a moment, "So Mr Kennedy some sort of entrepreneur and Mr Parker-Stewart the man of ideas? But what ideas, that is the question," Vastra added thoughtfully, "and who else is our Mr Kennedy dealing with?"

"Funny thing, Madame," Jenny said, "Mosa did mention some rough type who'd paid a visit and seemed to put the wind up our Mr Kennedy. A tall, skinny cove with a funny voice. She said he smelled like damp fur of all things, reckoned he was from the docks."

"Fur? And the docks? Perhaps we should take Mr Kelly's advice and speak to this Timmy Tuppence gentleman?"

"I very much doubt that Timmy Tuppence is a gentleman and," Jenny hesitated, "I think perhaps I know someone else who can tell us what we need to know."

Vastra waited for Jenny to elucidate but the young woman remained quiet. She pointed out a passing Hansom cab and Vastra dutifully flagged it down. They settled themselves inside and Jenny asked the driver to take them back to the part of London where they had first met. Vastra waited again but still Jenny said nothing. Though there was a faint smile at the corner of her lips as she sat in silence.

"I believe this is your revenge, my dear."

"I can't think what you mean, Madame," Jenny kept a straight face for a moment before laughing and saying, "I'm not so good at it as you, mind. You remember Mrs Jenkins?"

"Your landlady in that," Vastra tempered her words, "house where you lived for a few days?"

"She might not have been the cleanest of women but she's got her ear to the ground; knows everything."

"But will she reveal anything?"

"Given the right incentive she will."

The cab moved through the London streets passing eastwards through various levels of affluence, inspiration and hard graft until they returned to the slums of the Jago. The cab pulled up on the edge of the worst part of the Old Nichol, the driver informing them that he would go no further and suggesting most strongly that they have him deliver them safely home rather than setting foot in that cess pit of a place.

Vastra could find nothing to disagree with in his assessment but Jenny waved his concerns away and dropped down from the cab. Vastra followed more reluctantly and paid the man his due. They stood together for a moment, taking in the long terraces that stretched out into one of the worst slums of London. The air was rank even here on the edge of the place and the sky seemed to darken yet more in sympathy with the plight of the inhabitants.

"I never asked you, my dear," Vastra said as Jenny took her arm and lead them into the maze of narrow streets, "but why did you chose such a place to stay after," Vastra hesitated, trying to find a delicate phrasing, "you left home."

"After I got kicked out, Madame?" Jenny said but she couldn't quite pull off the joking tone, the underlying anger still too raw, "I knew I needed to get well away, get to somewhere that even me dad wouldn't follow. If that's what you want, where else to go but the Jago?"

Vastra looked around and forced herself not to reply: anywhere. Instead she straightened her back and made herself as imposing as possible to the few gawping locals who watched them walk down the long street towards the little side road that held Mrs Jenkin's boarding house.


	5. Chapter 5

See Part One for story details.

* * *

"Did you ever learn what happened to poor Mrs Henry?" Vastra said.

Jenny shrugged, "Never had the chance really. We'll ask Mrs Jenkins, eh?"

They had turned into the side street now and approached the boarding house. Jenny banged on the door and they waited. Jenny knocked again but there was no answer.

They moved from the door and looked around. A scruffy lad was strolling along the other side of the street as if he owned the whole borough. His hands were firmly planted in his trouser pockets as he ambled along, his hat dipped at a jaunty angle.

"Here, she's down at the end, ain't she. Ol'Henry's house," the lad shouted across to them.

"Thank you kindly," Jenny shouted back and the lad knuckled his cap politely. "Seems we'll get an answer after all," Jenny said to Vastra as they walked on the few more yards to the Henry's front door.

The house still seemed far better kept than the other houses, a little touch of the better part of London that bordered that side of the Old Nichol. Though it had suffered a marked decline; the windows were noticably dirtier and the whole place had an air of sadness to it. The blue door stood open and there were no flowers at the entrance as they went inside. The nicer furniture was gone too, the hallway bare. They entered the house and made their way to the little parlour where they had first seen Mrs Henry. It was empty of people or furnishings, the fire long since died away.

"A'right you two, just you turn 'round and git."

"Mrs Jenkins," Jenny said as they turned towards the voice.

There was a large woman in the doorway. She was as tall as Vastra and broader still. A woman in her late thirties perhaps, though Vastra had learned that age was deceptive where such extremes of poverty existed. She wore a dress that bore a remarkable resemblance to the one that Jenny had given Vastra to wear as they investigated their first mystery together.

Mrs Jenkins blinked a few times before her broad accent boomed out into the small room, "Blimey, Miss Flint, what you doin' 'ere? Mrs 'enry's been gone this for'night or more, I've not got a forwardin' address or ought; always the stuck up cow, that one."

"We're not here for Mrs Henry, Mrs Jenkins, though I'd appreciate knowing how she did once the case was settled."

"Oh, that no-good 'usband was insured, weren't he? Paid out lovely once the Police said it was murder and not him topping 'isself. Couldn't see 'er for dust once the money came through and all their stuff too it turns out," she added in a disappointed tone. Mrs Jenkins eyed the tall, veiled figure beside Jenny, "And this is your," a knowing hesitation, "Mistress, is it. Very pleased, I'm sure."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs Jenkins. May we trouble you for some answers on a different matter?"

"What matter'd that be then?" the woman looked sceptical, "One of your famous investigations, is it?"

"Just so."

"Something a bit nasty going on up Belgravia way," Jenny said.

Mrs Jenkins laughed, "Oh, there's plenty nasty goin' on up there, my gal, believe you me."

"And believe you I do, but this could be nasty all round and we'd like to get to the bottom of it before anyone less," Jenny grinned, "deserving gets hurt."

"A'right then, though I don't know how much 'elp I'll be. Terrible me memory these days, you know, just terrible it is."

"Let's see if we can help you with that, Mrs Jenkins."

Jenny held out her hand, pressing it into Mrs Jenkins hand when it was offered to her. Vastra thought she saw something passing from Jenny's palm to Mrs Jenkins' and she looked up to see a wink from Jenny and a pleased little smile from Mrs Jenkins conclude the transaction.

"Nice cuppa tea is what we need," Mrs Jenkins said, turning away from them and heading back for the door, "Come on, let's get in the warm, this 'ouse gives me the bleedin' shivers."

Vastra smiled at Jenny through the veil, knowing that the young woman would sense the expression and respond to it. She did, taking Vastra's arm with a little chuckle and drawing them out after Mrs Jenkins. They walked back the few yards to Mrs Jenkins' house, the large woman shouldering the front door open and leading them to the smokey kitchen at the back of the house. Vastra forced herself not to react to the overwhelming smells of the place. Jenny had been right: Mrs Jenkin's was not the cleanest of women.

"Sit ya down then and ask away," Mrs Jenkins said as she bustled about making the tea, adding, "'ow's she take it, then?"

Vastra was baffled by the strange question but Jenny answered, "Drop o'milk and a bit of sugar, if you've got it."

"Might not be rich, my gal," Mrs Jenkins said, "but I can manage a decent cuppa tea. 'ere ya go then."

They sat at the little kitchen table, Jenny insisting that Vastra took one of the two chairs and she herself settling on a stool. Mrs Jenkin's served the tea, though Vastra thought she did so with far less aplomb than Jenny, and dropped into the second seat. She slurped at her tea, drawing it heartily from the chipped cup, her little finger slightly raised. Vastra made to take a drink, wished she hadn't glanced at the cup itself, and then forced down a few sips.

"So, Mrs Jenkins," Jenny said, "something funny's happening at the docks. You know what?"

The conversation that followed appeared to Vastra to be spoken in some sort of code or at the very least, in an additional form of the English language that her people had obviously never deciphered. She had thought herself fluent in three of the main human languages — why these backwards creatures couldn't settle on one language for the entire planet still baffled her — and two of their ancient tongues as well but it seemed she was not even passingly familiar with the language that the two women were using to communicate.

She caught perhaps one in six or seven words and latched on to names and places as they were mentioned but it was a lesson in the vernacular of the slums, the shorthand that the human lower classes used to communicate amongst themselves. Vastra found it fascinating to watch Jenny in what was much closer to her own world than the better parts of London which they had come to occupy.

Vastra suffered a momentary melancholy at the loss she too had experienced, that of her own people and language. It didn't last long though; for all that she had railed against the intrusion of the humans on her life, for all that she decried the creatures as barbaric apes, Vastra was able to admit that she was infinitely happier now than she had been cocooned in the earth, waiting for a new age to dawn and occasionally being forced to interact with her own people.

The conversation concluded and Jenny professed herself most pleased with the information that Mrs Jenkins had imparted. Mrs Jenkins appeared equally pleased with the additional sum that Jenny pressed in to her waiting palm. They turned to smile at Vastra, who forced down the last of her tea and stood up.

"You have been most generous with your time, Mrs Jenkins. What a pleasure to finally have a chance to meet you."

"Most kind of you too, Madame, thankee. And you take care of our girl 'ere, eh?" Mrs Jenkins wrapped Jenny in a hug, enveloping the smaller form in black before pulling back and saying, "You call in any time, Miss Flint, any time ya'd liked."

Jenny offered a few more pleasantries and they left the house on good terms. Vastra still had no idea of the details that they had discussed. She found herself equal parts embarrassed and annoyed, though entirely impressed with the way Jenny had handled the situation.

"You follow that, Madame?"

"You know all too well that I did not," Vastra said and tried to ignore Jenny's smirk.

They walked out of the Old Nichol and back into the slightly more acceptable part of London that afforded them a Hansom cab. Vastra could feel the weight of the dirt and poverty even as they settled in to the seat and rocked back with the movement of the horse. Jenny had instructed the driver to take them to a particular part of the London Docks.

"Do not enjoy your revenge too much, my dear," Vastra warned.

"Sorry, Madame," Jenny patted her hand, "Sometimes it's best to speak the language of the person you're talking to, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed I do. Do I not speak your language every day?"

Jenny turned to study the veiled face. Vastra lifted the veil, easing it over her hat so that they could look at each other directly.

"You mean you don't speak English yourself? I mean," Jenny waved her hand vaguely, "your people don't?"

"We do not. Silurians have their own language. And a noble language I might add."

Jenny considered this for a moment, "Blimey. Never even occurred to me that you weren't speaking your mother tongue, er, so to speak." Jenny blushed, "Sorry, Madame."

Vastra smiled at the concern on Jenny's face, "Do not be sorry, my dear, I am happy to be able to communicate with you in your own language. Besides, the sounds of the Silurian language would be difficult for a human to reproduce; you do not have the correct vocal arrangements."

"Best we stick to English then, eh?"

"I believe so. Now, why are we heading for this particular place?"

"Well, that Sal Kelly was right, there's some very queer business down at the docks, stranger than usual I mean. Mrs Jenkins had heard mutterings for a while, some new nabob in town looking to set himself up. Then people start getting hired down at the docks. Not your usual sorts but criminals of various types, all types really, as well as dockers and the like, though most of them only in the short term. And here's the funny thing, some of them scientist types too."

"Your famous natural philosophers? And did Mrs Jenkins offer a name for this new," Vastra considered the word, "leader?"

"No, that's the thing, no-one's sure who it is or what exactly's going on. But she didn't sound too surprised when I mentioned a certain Mr Kennedy."

"I noticed that," Vastra thought for a moment, "So he might very well be involved?"

"I don't know," Jenny shrugged, "Mrs Jenkins hadn't heard anything about him in relation to the docks. Nothing beyond what he usually does down there anyway. Nothing about him and gemstones, either. But she had heard about this new chappy's liking for pretty things — stones and the like — and this is really interesting, Madame: she'd heard tell of some new gun that could cut through flesh like a surgeon's knife."

"Indeed?"

"Though she thought it fanciful herself."

"Alas, the inestimable Mrs Jenkins stumbles. And these docks?"

Jenny glanced out of the window, following Vastra's gaze as the houses gave way to warehouses. She pounded on the roof of the cab and Vastra pulled the veil back over her face. The driver reigned in the horse and they stepped down, Vastra paying the man before he sped away once more.

They were at that point between the eastern and western docks where large warehouses stored the many products that were shipped in and out of the world's busiest port each day. Vastra had to take a moment to steady herself against the barrage of scents that surrounded her. Jenny placed a hand on her arm and looked at her in concern.

"The smell, is it?" she said.

Vastra nodded and slowly opened her senses once more, taking in the filth and sweat; the river water and the ships' bilge; the tobacco, tea, coal, spices and a myriad of other substances, all mixed up with damp wood and old sackcloth.

There were less people here than she had expected. Vastra had attempted to explore this part of the city when she had first awoken but even at the dead of night there were always people moving around, carriages and carts trundling back and forth. Now it seemed to be a little place of relative calm, though Vastra was sure that what peace it offered would be temporary, for there would surely be a delivery or a rush of people coming in soon enough. The few people who milled about were rough looking coves, working men with hard faces and hunched shoulders. What attention they gave the women was passing and dismissive.

"Tobacco Dock, Madame. Over there," Jenny pointed to a large, brick building, "is The Great Tobacco Warehouse. And somewhere around here, there's a smaller warehouse where our mystery man has set himself up."

"Then let us find it, my dear, and deal with this matter before he can kill again."


	6. Chapter 6

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Jenny lead them off into the heart of the warehouses that ran away from the docks themselves. The building that Jenny had pointed out was the largest in the area but there were a number of red brick buildings packed closely together with barely the space for the wagons that so often filled the streets. The buildings had small, heavily-barred windows set high to each floor of their three to five stories. Vastra could hear the roaring, clacking sounds of those infernal railways as they served the larger warehouses and the docks themselves, though they could see only the drifts of smoke above the buildings as the trains chugged by.

After they had wondered through the streets for a while, something caught Vastra's attention and she reached out to hold Jenny back. Jenny glanced up at her before turning her attention to the warehouse that held Vastra's gaze. It stood three stories high and filled the corner of a long block of almost identical buildings. One side of the building held a large, black entrance while the other side had only high windows and a single door.

Vastra eased them into the doorway of the warehouse at their backs and lifted her veil enough to allow her tongue to poke out. She tasted the air twice more before allowing the veil to drop back again.

"What is it?"

"A gas of some sort, something certainly not natural to this planet."

"Alien gas?" Jenny studied the building closely, "That counts as a clue, I'd say. Shall we go in?"

"We have no way to know what the building holds."

"Well, we have one way to know," Jenny grabbed Vastra's arm and pulled her from their hiding place, "Come on."

Vastra hissed a warning but they were already out into the street and striding towards the small door set into the side of the warehouse. There was no-one on guard at the entrance and no sign of much activity either. Vastra looked around again, searching out any sign of a trap. Almost simultaneous blasts of train and ship horns made them both start. Jenny let out a long breath as she calmed herself.

"Best we get in and out now, Madame, I'd reckon there's a few deliveries on the way."

"Indeed, let us take a look around and leave as quickly as possible," Vastra emphasised the last few words.

They stood by the solid black door and listened intently. There were signs of greater activity closer to the docks, the clatter of machinery unable to drown out the sounds of so many pairs of heavy boots. From the building itself they could hear nothing. Vastra tried the door but it was locked.

Jenny swatted Vastra aside and a set of lockpicks magically appeared in her hands. She leaned over the lock for a moment before giving a little grunt of triumph and standing back with a grin.

"You have many skills, my dear. Come."

Vastra pushed the door open slowly, her senses fully aware as she peered into the gloom beyond. Jenny bustled in behind her, forcing her forward. As soon as they were both inside, Vastra closed the door behind them. She lifted her veil over her hat and they both stood for a moment, allowing their eyes to adapt to the low light.

"It occurs to me that our attire is not entirely appropriate for these adventures."

"I've always fancied wearing breeches myself."

"Really?" Vastra considered the idea, "I believe you would be quite fetching in breeches."

Jenny glanced up at Vastra, blushing furiously, "Thank you, Madame."

Vastra merely said, "Come, let us take a look."

They were in a short hallway with two doors set immediately off it. Both opened on to small office spaces, one empty and the other housing only a small table with a single chair. Neither room appeared to have been used in recent days, if not weeks. They moved on, coming to the plain wooden door that stood closed at the far end. Jenny pressed an ear to the wood but could hear nothing. She nodded to Vastra before testing the handle. It turned easily and she eased the door open.

They had both expected to find themselves in a large open space filled with crates or the like. Instead, the door opened on to a lab of some sort. It was perhaps half the size of the warehouse proper and there was another wall opposite them with another small, wooden door set into it. Between them and it stood long, scarred benches bearing an assortment of glass jars, old tools and various oddments, all jumbled up together in a most unscienctific state.

"A mad professor?" Jenny offered.

Vastra considerd the contents of the nearest bench, her tongue darting out to taste the air, "Or something worse?"

Jenny took her lead from Vastra and wondered around the room, checking on the few items that she recognised and trying to work out what the rest might be. There was a definite whiff to the place, she thought, and it did not smell good. The air tasted wrong, her eyes and mouth beginning to tingle with the heavy, metallic tang of it.

Vastra considered the equipment with a more knowing eye. Most of it was of this era, some far older still, but there were a few pieces that were either not of this time or not of this Earth, as her companion would say. Vastra glanced up at Jenny.

"Are you quite well, my dear?"

"Quite, thank you Madame. Funny taste to the air, mind. Making my tonue tingle so I don't know what it's doing to your's."

"It is certainly not pleasant."

"But what is it?"

"Soliton, I believe," Vastra said, still considering the answer as she gave it, "Traces of it up here, though there must be quite a store of it nearby. Do these buildings have cellars?"

"I think they might, Madame. Though I don't know what sort of places they'd be, given how close to the river we are."

"There is certainly a hint of rising damp about the place."

They continued their investigation for a few minutes more before Jenny made her way over to the far door and listened again. She raised a brow in question, Vastra looked back at the other door but turned again and waved Jenny on. She opened the door and peeked around it.

"That's more like it."

Jenny stepped out into the storage area that most of these buildings housed. A single, open space with only scattered crates and an occasional sack breaking up the expanse of floor. The inside of the large entrance was off to one side, the high windows set around it casting the space in a weak light that showed dust mites dancing in the air. Vastra studied the shafts of light carefully before she walked through any of them.

"You always do that," Jenny said.

"And what is that?"

"Check the light before you walk in it."

"You never know what lurks in the light, my dear," Vastra said before turning to study one of the nearby crates.

She froze mid-turn, her gloved hands rising to pull the veil over her face. Jenny stared, confused by the action, then jumped as a voice from behind them spoke.

"Quite right, you'd be amazed what the light can bring."

They turned to find that a woman had appeared behind them, though neither had heard her enter. She was tall and thin, her short, blonde hair tussled, her mouth twisted into an angry expression. She held a weapon, something between a handgun and a shotgun but not of the era. Her clothes were, though the effect was not: she wore tight riding breeches with a light waistcoat over a dark shirt.

"Wouldn't mind an outfit like that, Madame," Jenny said conversationally.

The woman lifted the muzzle of the gun a little higher and gave a strange, growling noise in warning. Vastra's scales twitched uncomfortably.

"What are you?" she said. Jenny took her eyes away from the weapon to glance up at Vastra but she continued, "You are not as you appear, Miss...?"

"You should both shut up," the woman said the words with a long hiss, "Who are you?"

Jenny and Vastra remained silent and the woman hissed again, menacing them with the weapon until Vastra spoke.

"You instructed us to shut up. Which would you prefer, our silence or an answer?"

The woman aimed the weapon directly at Jenny's head, "Perhaps I should give you an incentive to talk."

"Wait!" Vastra shouted and stepped between the women.

Her hands came up in one quick motion and she tossed the veil over her hat. She stood tall, the muzzle of the weapon pointing squarely at her chest, the woman staring up into Vastra's burning eyes.

"A Silurian. I thought you were all taking a nap."

"A cat nap, perhaps?" Vastra said.

The lips of the woman twitched into something that might have been a smile and the tips of pointed teeth showed between them. She took her steadying hand from the grip of the gun and moved it to her other wrist, pressing at a device that was fastened there. Vastra noted it and realised how the woman had surprised them so effectively.

There was a strange beeping sound and then the woman seemed to waver and blur for a moment before the blonde hair and human clothing were replaced by dark fur and a tight, orange uniform that hugged her feline form.

"Blimey," Jenny said from around Vastra's shoulder. She stepped out into clear view and stared up at the creature. It...she?...seemed taller, the high, slim head accentuated by sharply pointed ears. Jenny looked up at Vastra, "Cat people?"

"Indeed. She is one of the Felinoids," Vastra said, "A mercenary, no doubt. Who are you working for?"

The voice was heavier now, the words hissing out between the sharp teeth, "Perhaps you would like to find out for yourself, Silurian?"

"I'd quite like to know too," Jenny said, making sure she wasn't forgotten.

"Move," the woman twitched the weapon towards the far side of the room and said, "He's down there."

They walked in the direction she had indicated and Vastra noticed the trap door standing proud of the floor in the far corner of the room. She felt Jenny close behind her, felt the fear and anger radiating from her companion, and wished that she could have spared the young woman this situation, that she had found a way to have the Felinoid leave her in the warehouse proper.

"Open it," the woman said as they approached the trap door, "Slowly."

Jenny reached out ahead of Vastra and eased the door up. They were greeted by a gust of rank air, the usual mixture of river silt and effluent combined with the same strange odour that the lab had held. Vastra was right, Jenny thought, there's more of that gas down there. She looked up at Vastra, saw the sadness and anger in her eyes and gave her a faint nod of reassurance.

Vastra acknowledged the gesture and took the cellar steps first. Her long gown was utterly impractical and she wished again for more appropriate attire. The thought was chased away by the overwhelming scents that filled the room below. It was much better lit than Vastra had expected, with a circle of bright light at its centre. She looked up to see the lights dotted around the low ceiling. Vintaric crystals, she realised with a start and suddenly the truth came to her.

"What have we here?"

It was a cultured voice but a rasping, hissing one that held pain and hatred in equal measure. Jenny and Vastra stood in the middle of the open space, the Felinoid to the side and slightly behind them. She had lowered her weapon and Vastra could feel Jenny readying herself to attack. She held out a hand and calmed her friend, her eyes never wavering from the direction of the voice.

There was a much darker area towards the far end of the cellar. The smell of the gas was heavier in that direction too. The darkness gave a little, colours moving in the shadows, until a shape emerged. It was a tall, stout creature, a shuffling body of dark greens and charcoal black. When it stepped out into the light of the crystals, the colours resolved themselves into a green, scaled body covered with dense, dark patches of burned flesh and angry scars.

"What the blee-"

"Good afternoon, ladies," it said in that same tone, "How are you both?"


	7. Chapter 7

See Part One for story details.

* * *

"Somewhat surprised to find a Terileptil in league with a Felinoid, I admit, but otherwise quite well. You look somewhat," Vastra considered her words, "worse for the wear."

"Burned alive and left for dead by that Time Lord, that pathetic creature who stands himself above all others and considers himself the master of our fates," he ranted, his voice rasping more and more until it was barely above an animal hiss, "Two hundred years of waiting, burning inside and out until I had healed enough to exact my revenge." He calmed himself suddenly and added, "But I must correct you, I am not in league with this," a mutilated flipper indicated the Felinoid with distain, "creature. She is my employee. As are so many of the people of this rank, decaying planet. You have your own pet, I see."

"Hey," Jenny stepped forward, "I'm no-one's pet, thank you very much."

The Felinoid gave a half laugh, half meow in pleasure and hissed at the Terileptil. Vastra used the distraction to look around. The centre of the cellar, the well-lit part which they occupied, was surrounded by more dimly lit areas that appeared to contain large pieces of machinery and scattered tools. Most of it seemed to be the heavy, clanging sort that these humans favoured but there were pieces of more advanced technology and Vastra recognised a few signs of the formula-like Terileptil script.

"You at least managed to salvage some of your technology?" she said absently.

"What little could be saved. These humans have advanced quite remarkably in the last few decades, though. Fascinating, aren't they?"

The Terileptil approached Jenny, a blackened flipper reaching out to her. Jenny eased back and found herself pressed against Vastra's larger form. The Terileptil stopped feet away from them and studied Jenny closely.

"I have found that they can withstand a great deal more than I had first appreciated. And that they are adept at following orders, when correctly induced to do so."

"They wouldn't follow your orders, not if they knew the truth," Jenny said, leaning into him.

Vastra placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her back, and said, "Your pet here used her device to disguise herself as Mr Parker-Stewart and steal something. What was it?"

The Terileptil dragged his one good eye from Jenny and studied Vastra for a moment. He turned and shuffled away, his left side little more than a dead weight. He looked back into the darkened area from whence he had come and called out something in a strange tongue.

There was an odd clanking, shuffling sound and a figure emerged from the darkness. Humanoid in shape but oddly proportioned, the being walked backwards, dragging something behind him. He drew it up beside the Terileptil, turned in a wide circle and came to a stop beside his master, the sounds of slowing cogs and settling springs filling the air for a moment before there was silence again.

"The Doctor," he hissed the name, "destroyed my android. I have been working on a replacement for some time."

"Remarkable," Vastra said, genuinely impressed with the contraption, "And this," she indicated the device.

Jenny studied it. It looked like a stripped down carronade held precariously on a canon's tackle and with no real chase, merely a long piece of brightly shining metal. Behind that was a glass sphere that contained a large, blue stone at its centre. The stone glowed unnaturally as if the light came from within. Jenny shivered despite herself.

She glanced over her shoulder at Vastra who was staring at the device intently. "The crystal is, I assume, what you took from the vault? But the weapon you used to kill the humans, surely this is not it?"

"That would be this," the Felinoid said from behind them.

They turned to see her hefting a different weapon, though they hadn't felt or heard her movement as she collected it, presumably from the shadowy area further back in the cellar. It was a smaller version of the device before them, a stubby sort of shotgun with a metal rod for a barrel and a glass sphere containing a much smaller blue stone.

"Fascinating," Vastra said, "I should very much like to know how you constructed these devices." She ignored Jenny's glare and stepped towards the Felinoid, "Parker-Stewart gave you this gem but you wanted more. He told you of Mr Kennedy's penchant for collecting other people's treasures but Kennedy was quite happy to sacrifice his colleague. You returned with your prototype but Parker-Stewart would not — nay, could not — co-operate so you massacred his household, took his keys and went to the bank. Am I correct?" Vastra said over her shoulder.

"Well done," the Terileptil said, though the Felinoid merely hissed, "you have a sharp mind, Silurian."

"I thank you. When you arrived at the bank, you found that Parker-Stewart had indeed told the truth; the box you required was not his but Mr Kennedy's. In a fit of pique, you simply ripped the box from the wall. You had already subdued the guards but poor Mr Edwards had to be dealt with as well. And what better way than to use your new toy."

"And that thing," Jenny indicated the crystal in the larger device, "that's what was in Mr Kennedy's box. What is it?"

"A crystal of some considerable value, as far as Mr Kennedy is concerned," Vastra said, "Though I suspect it is a great deal more than that, is it not?" she added to the Terileptil.

He raised his good flipper in the crystal's direction, "Quite the most beautiful piece, wouldn't you say? I have rarely seen finer. I had thought it an Earth equivalent but now I think perhaps it is genuine."

"Genuine what?" Jenny said.

"I believe it may be a crystal from Metebelis III, my dear. Though how it came to Earth, I could not say. They have remarkable powers, for both good and ill, mental and physical. You have chosen the latter in both cases," Vastra said to the Terileptil, "but to what ends?"

"Oh, that'd be world domination and the enslavement of the human race, wouldn't it?" Jenny said.

Vastra looked back at her, a smile forcing itself to her lips, "Quite probably."

"These inferior creatures hardly deserve to live at all," the Terileptil said, "Enslavement is too good for them."

"You want the planet then?"

Vastra was still close to the Felinoid, apparently studying the smaller weapon intently. Jenny had sidled over to the larger weapon, the wound down clockwork android slumped beside it and the Terileptil standing across from her. She considered the device, though she was careful to keep her hands to her side. It had a trigger mechanism set low beneath what would have been the carronade's chamber. It was a large hook that seemed to cock upwards. Jenny wondered if it was as simple as pulling a rifle's trigger.

Only one way to find out, she told herself as she took a quick step forward and barged the clockwork man aside. She grabbed for the device and swivelled it on its tackle, bringing what passed for its muzzle to bear on the Terileptil. She wrapped her hands around the trigger mechanism and glared down the rod towards the creature.

Vastra took advantage of the scuffle to grab for the Felinoid's smaller version of the weapon. The woman hissed, her fangs on show as she tugged the weapon back. Vastra pushed hard against her and threw off her balance for long enough to wrestle the weapon away from the strong paws. She held it in one hand and swatted at the woman's arms with the other, trying to dislodge the device that she wore on her wrist.

Vastra tossed the weapon away to free her other hand, sending it skidding behind her with a loud crack as the glass sphere gave way. She wrestled with the Felinoid again, feeling sharp claws rip through the sleeve of her coat. Vastra hissed in annoyance and lunged forward, forcing the woman off balance and sending them both tumbling into the darkness behind them.

Jenny caught the movement from the corner of her eye and was distracted long enough for the Terileptil to bustle towards her. He was injured and slow, his destroyed body lumbering in line of the weapon. Instinctively, Jenny yanked on the trigger. A strange rushing sound surrounded them, the air sharp with the scent that had clung to the unusual wounds she and Vastra had examined earlier. The sound rose in intensity, the air tingling with a crackling energy that built up inside the large sphere and was channelled in one long, rushing release down the metal rod and out.

It impacted the Terileptil directly, his twisted body straightening dramatically before he was sent crashing backwards. His bulk landed with a heavy impact that raised dust from the floor, the lingering energy of the blast still crackling in blue sparks, the dust mites dancing in the static-filled air. Jenny blinked away the startling blue glow of the initial burst of energy and stared down at the wound that almost cleaved the Terileptil's body in two.

Vastra had the Felinoid pressed against a large crate in the half-light of the cellar's edges but even there the blue flash and the whining, rushing sound startled them both. The Felinoid recovered more quickly and shoved Vastra aside, Vastra distracted by the thought that Jenny might be hurt. She scrambled for the woman but it was too late, the Felinoid slapped at the device on her wrist and disappeared in an instant.

Vastra turned away immediately and rushed back to the centre of the cellar. Jenny was alive. Vastra stumbled, steadying herself as she regained her breath and her footing before hurrying to Jenny's side. The young woman was slumped beside the body of the Terileptil. His torso was little more than a gaping hole, the close discharge of the weapon ripping his already damaged body asunder. Jenny turned her face to Vastra, a blank expression staring up at her.

Vastra leaned down and took Jenny by the arms, lifting her almost bodily and holding her close. She felt Jenny's shock in the fierce shaking of her body and held tighter still. "Come, my dear," she whispered, "let us return home. I believe you require tea."

"No," Jenny said after a long pause, her face still pressed into Vastra's shoulder, "we have to finish this. Tell the bank. Oh," Jenny's head lifted, her watery eyes wide as she stared up at Vastra, "what shall we tell them?"

Vastra took a moment to consider the question, her eyes playing around the cellar as she did so. She would take the smaller weapon with them, the larger crystal too. They should be secured; Vastra dared not think what the humans might do with such devices. Her gaze lingered on the clockwork android that the Terileptil had created. It was the most remarkable workmanship and Vastra felt a twinge of regret that such a skilled and cultured race could be the harbingers of such hatred and destruction. None of which they could tell Sir Neville, of course.

"I believe we will tell them that it was a matter between Mr Kennedy and Mr Parker-Stewart. Suggest that they let it lie for now, though I believe we might keep an eye on that vile man. Then, let us take our fee and consider how best to protect this world from such things in the future."

"There's more of them out there," it wasn't a question.

"Many more," Vastra looked down into the now more collected expression, "but I shall keep you safe, my dear, fear not."

"Oh, I think we've established that it ain't me who needs a bodyguard. Hey," Jenny looked around Vastra's shoulder, "where's that cat woman gone?"

Vastra sighed, "Alas, she got away. She had a transportation device — something known as a Vortex Manipulator, I believe — that allowed her to simply teleport away."

"Teleport?" Jenny considered the word, "You mean she just disappeared...like ppffff, gone?"

"Exactly so."

"Blimey. Gone where exactly?"

"Such devices are capable of transporting the wearer in both time and space so it is impossible to say where — or indeed when — exactly."

"Blimey," Jenny repeated because it seemed the only suitable response.

There was a long pause, the two women staring at each other. Jenny gave a bark of laughter, though there was no humour in it. Vastra laughed with her, more from relief that her companion was alive and, for the most part, unharmed. She wondered what the knowledge that she had killed would do to her friend, remembered the rush of triumph and the dull ache of regret that had accompanied her own first kill.

"Come, let us finish this matter. Wait for me upstairs, I will only be a moment."

"I'll wait right here, if it's all the same to you."

"Then perhaps you might look into the crates that are over there," Vastra indicated the back of the cellar area where she and the Felinoid had fought, "I should like to know that there is nothing else we need to worry about down here."


	8. Chapter 8

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Jenny went off into the semi-darkness and studied the crates for a moment before looking around for something to open them. There was a crowbar left on the floor, propped up against one of the crates in the far corner. Jenny hefted it, pleased with the solid weight in her hands, and set about the first crate. She listened to the sounds of Vastra working a little way off. A dragging sound, strained metal and a muttered oath, then a blast from the larger weapon that made Jenny freeze for a long moment before more metallic sounds broke into her panic.

She waited for another blast but heard the smashing of glass and nothing more. Jenny returned her attention to the crates, finding nothing but machine parts that didn't seem to go together at all. She thought about the creatures she had met today. Terileptils and Felinoids. The words rolled around in Jenny's head. Somehow they seemed so much stranger than a Silurian who lived in London as a modern woman.

Jenny felt a presence at her side an instant before she felt the breath at her neck. She half turned to stare up into the burning eyes of the Felinoid. The muzzle bared down on her, an angry hiss escaping the sharp teeth, and a large paw came rushing towards her, claws out and deadly. Jenny pulled her arm in a short arc, the crowbar's weight giving her movement greater momentum as she swung as hard as she could and connected solidly with the Felinoid's head.

There was a fierce yelp of surprise that sank into a long, pained hiss as the woman fell backwards. Jenny corrected her movement before she could overbalance and hefted her arm in the other direction, determined to land another solid blow. But the woman's hand came slapping down at her wrist and she was gone, leaving Jenny staring at an empty space on the floor and her arm swinging wildly to bring the crowbar crashing into the side of the nearest crate.

Vastra came running towards her and had to jump aside to avoid the blow. Jenny stared at the empty air while she calmed herself, then turned to look up into Vastra's concerned expression.

"Had a little visit from our cat friend," she shrugged, "Gave her a bit of a headache, I'd reckon."

"You are unhurt, my dear?"

Jenny looked herself up and down before smiling, "Perfectly well, Madame, thank you."

Vastra took a deep breath and steadied her rapid heartbeat, "Perhaps we might leave now, I believe we have both had enough excitement for one day."

Jenny nodded her agreement and they made their way back through the lit part of the cellar and up the stone steps. Jenny noticed that the Terileptil's body was gone, as was the clockwork creature that he had created. The weapon had been dismantled, the glass sphere smashed and the crystal nowhere to be seen. A great pile of disparate machine parts and fragments of glass stood in its place, the long metal rod pointing into the darkness on the far side of the cellar.

On their way to the stairs Vastra picked up a large sack that was weighed down by its contents. Jenny recognised the outline of the smaller weapon in there and assumed Vastra had kept the larger crystal too but there was something else, larger and heavier, that was dragging Vastra's arm down as she carried it in one hand and guided Jenny with the other.

"I'm quite all right now," Jenny said, "You just concentrate on carrying that."

Vastra was reluctant to let her companion go but she gave a faint nod and allowed Jenny to lead the way to the trap door above them. Jenny eased the door up and peered into the warehouse. She waved Vastra on, securing the door behind them and they hurried across the open space and through the lab.

"What about the folks he'd been hiring?"

"I doubt very much that they will remain long when they find no-one here to pay them for their labours," Vastra said.

"And this place?" Jenny waved a hand towards the lab equipment.

"Would you know anyone who might be able to transport these things?"

"Transport them? Where?"

"To our own abode, my dear."

"You want a lab in the house?" Jenny shook her head, "You sure about that?"

"I will be most careful, I assure you."

"If you say so. And, yeah, I dare say I can get someone to do a bit of moving. On the quiet, like."

"On the quiet indeed." Vastra looked around them as they stood at the final interior doorway. She pulled down her veil and said, "I believe we may consider ourselves the victors at the present time."

"Don't feel much like a victor myself. In fact, I'd say we've made ourselves quite a few enemies today."

Vastra patted Jenny's shoulder before leading her into the short corridor and out of the side door of the warehouse. There were more people around now, big, hulking men with hard faces and black hands who hurried around, some with sacks at their backs, many in groups, all of them bent against the heavy rain that had finally begun to fall. There was more noise from the docks and the railways too, loud, booming sounds that filled the water-logged air. The two women attracted some attention but it was largely inoffensive and they even received a few polite gestures of respect as they themselves hurried through the rain, back to the edge of the docks and a Hansom cab.

When they were settled inside, Vastra's sack sitting at her feet, her damp veil lifted over her hat, she said, "I have both the smaller weapon and the larger crystal. Should we return both gems to the bank?"

"Give that bast-" Jenny checked herself just in time, "that Mr Kennedy his precious stone back — not likely! Besides, you think it's alien, don't you?"

"I do, though I could be mistaken. And we have no proof that Mr Kennedy was involved, remember."

"Oh, I'll remember that chappy for a while to come. No, let's at least keep that big stone safe and sound."

"Then that is as it shall be, my dear. Perhaps we can pass off the smaller gem as the missing item for Sir Neville's benefit. Though Mr Kennedy may seek retribution for the slight."

"I think we know enough about him to keep him quiet, don't you?"

"Perhaps," Vastra said, though she sounded doubtful.

"What else you got in there anyway?" Jenny said, tilting her head towards the sack. Vastra opened it up to Jenny so that she could peer inside. "And what do you plan on doing with that?"

"I thought I might study the workmanship. It is of quite remarkable design."

"As long as you keep it all in this new lab of yours, eh? I don't want bits of wind up man all over the place. And let's not go leaving a clockwork head on the mantel when we have visitors."

"I will not."

Jenny grinned at Vastra's contrite tone but it faded quickly, "That thing, the Teril-whatsit, has it really been here for two hundred years?"

"I suspect so," Vastra said, "They are a very long-lived race and are capable of withstanding a great deal of hardship."

"That one certainly had. And the cat woman?"

"I know less of the Felinoids, I confess, though I suspect not so long-lived but quite as nasty."

"I should say. And this Doctor person that he was raving about? Who's he then?"

Vastra considered, "Another alien who we must be wary of."

"You think he's one of them too?"

"Had a human had dealings with the Terileptils before, surely we would have heard of the encounter?"

"Most likely. Can you imagine what the papers'd say? Not that I'll be telling anyone; I'd rather not take a holiday in Bedlam, if it's all the same."

"We must remain vigilant," Vastra said, "for there are many things out there to concern us."

"And plenty of them are human and down here with us," Jenny said as the cab slowed in front of the Belgravia office of Carter Lawrie.

Vastra settled her veil around her face once more, reaching into the sack and pulling out the smaller gemstone. Jenny eased the battered paper and envelopes out from inside her coat and dropped them into the sack before Vastra pressed it under the seat. Another smartly dressed doorman held the door for them as they stepped down and Vastra gave the driver instructions to await their return.

As they took the few steps to the door an undertaker's carriage moved slowly down the joining road that lead around from the back of the terrace and continued on along the far side of the square. They entered the building to be greeted by Mr Phillips. The young man appeared even more grave than he had that morning. He guided them back to Sir Neville's office where they were met with an angry growl.

"What the blazers have you two women been up to? Had Mr Kennedy here a few hours ago, ranting and raving about 'those two harridans'. I hope you've got to the bottom of this business?"

"How charming to see you too, Sir Neville," Vastra said calmly and took a seat in front of his desk. Jenny stood behind her again as she went on, "We have indeed investigated the incident, with some danger to ourselves, if I might say so."

Sir Neville harumphed but Vastra ignored him and went on, "Given that I doubt you would want Scotland Yard directly involved in this matter, I suggest you take the advice I am about to offer. Should you choose to take recourse in the law, Miss Flint and I will deny any knowledge above the most basic information."

Sir Neville leaned forward, "What the devil are you talking about?"

"I suggest that you inform Mr Kennedy that the matter has been resolved to your satisfaction and that this," Vastra placed the gemstone on the desk in front of Sir Neville, "has been recovered. Should he protest -"

"Which I doubt he will," Jenny put in.

"- I would urge you to mention that he may not wish for a more formal investigation into this matter. Mention, if you wish, the man from the docks." Sir Neville glared at her but Vastra continued, "You have dealt with Mr Edwards I think and I believe you can reassure your other clients that the security upgrades have been completed and that the good name of Carter Lawrie remains unbesmirched."

"That's it?" Sir Neville shook his head, "And you want paying for this?"

"We certainly do, Sir Neville," Jenny said.

"You may also wish to send the most excellent Mr Harcourt and a couple of his men to the home of Mr Parker-Stewart. They will not have a pleasant discovery there but I would trust no-one else in this matter. Mr Parker-Stewart was not married, I assume?"

"I believe not. You think he's dead? Wouldn't his household have dealt with that?" There was a long pause, Vastra and Jenny eyeing the man steadily until his brows rose in alarm and he said, "Good grief, you can't be seriously suggesting... I'll send Harcourt around this minute."

Sir Neville called for Phillips and passed on his instructions for Mr Harcourt. Vastra rose to stand beside Jenny and waited for the man to return his attention to them, now with considerably more respect in his gaze. Surprise and then genuine concern crossed his face when he noticed the damaged material of Vastra's sleeve.

"I will inform Mr Phillips of our fees and expenses, Sir Neville," she said, covering the jagged edges of the cloth with her other hand. It has been a most interesting case and I thank you for putting your trust in Miss Flint and I. Should you require our assistance in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us."

"Indeed," Sir Neville stared at the women for a long moment, "you know more than you are letting on, ladies."

Vastra inclined her head, "Of course, Sir Neville, is that not a lady's perogative?"

"Perhaps so. Still, there will be no further consequence for the bank, I trust?"

"Only that which Mr Kennedy wishes to raise and I believe we can leave him in your capable hands. I feel sure that he would not wish for a formal investigation into this matter. Good day to you, Sir Neville."

They took their leave and spoke briefly to Mr Phillips. He drew up a draft immediately and Vastra requested that it be forwarded to their bank forthwith. She was just about to leave the young man when Jenny asked him about taking a lockbox in the vault.

"Most kind of you, Mr Phillips," Jenny said when he had offered them favourable terms, "Most kind indeed, I believe we might be in touch in that regard. Good day to you, Sir."

Vastra followed Jenny out and into their waiting cab. When they were settled in once more, she said, "You wish to secure something in their vault, my dear?"

"Reckon we've got a few things that might need to be kept safe, don't you?"

"I suppose so," Vastra considered, "though I do not know how Sir Neville would feel about that."

"Oh, ignore that old buffer," Jenny laughed, mimicking his tone as she repeated, "What the blazes have you two women been up to!"

Vastra laughed with her but the humour died away before the laughter ended and she studied the young woman carefully. After a pause, Vastra said, "You are all right, my dear?"

"Bit worse for the wear just now, Madame," Jenny sighed, "but reckon I'll be right as rain soon enough."

"It is not easy to kill, even in such circumstances."

"No, turns out it ain't."

"You must tell me if you require anything." Jenny made to speak but stopped herself and Vastra added, "Anything at all, Jenny."

Jenny swallowed hard, "A hug wouldn't go a miss just now, if I'm being honest."

Vastra held out her arm and Jenny slide along the cab's seat until she was tucked into Vastra's side. She tensed for a moment, all too aware of the woman beside her, but the long, difficult day weighed heavily on her and she allowed herself to relax into the protection of her friend's embrace.

"I am sorry, my dear."

"For what?"

"For putting you in such a position. I would never wish to see you hurt. In truth, I do not know what I would do if I did see such a thing."

"Well nothing very severe did happen to me and, though I can't say I want every day to be like this, I'd say we should expect to be dealing with all sorts, given," Jenny looked up into Vastra's anxious face, "what we are and that."

"What we are and that," Vastra repeated, "And what is that exactly?"

"Bloody good at what we do, I should say," Jenny grinned and placed a gentle kiss on Vastra's cheek.


End file.
